#honestly i should just give in and draw her fully chubby

[wilting-fl0wer]

oooh maybe romantic sol/utopia, or romantic marz/dys? dealer’s choice!

Dealer's choice was Marz/Dys, good stuff

[hazshit-hotel-hater]

Charlie Morningstar Redesign! (4/7)

It’s the girl herself!!!

I could NOT stand the red in her suit so i made it a much nicer soft cream colour! I think red is a lovely colour but in the case of someone like Charlie who wants to brand herself as approachable and welcoming, a strong harsh red all over is not the way to go. The red of her horns and lower hooves and vest is already more than enough red and it pairs very nicely with the yellows and gold accents in the rest of her design in my opinion!

I always tend to draw her with this big hopeful eyes to contrast the kind of scary look that rectangle pupils give and I think it reflects her character pretty well. Charlie is absolutely a sweetheart but when angry her eyes become flatter and more threatening. She’s literally offered to kill a guy for Angel once so she has to have some kick in her, plus horns are good for stabbing! And accessories!! Like cute chains!!!!! My original Charlie redesign had her with a little apple cuff on her horn and I do miss it a little, but I think she looks alright without it too :3 she keeps it in a dresser somewhere

I’ve never drawn or designed a character with cloven hoof hands but I think I might do it more often after this. Thinking about her writing or typing with the little clicky sounds makes my brain happy and honestly walking with hooves has that special flair that heels just cannot achieve. Since she’s the hotel owner/staff she also gets her own custom little nametag like Niffty (the rest if the staff have them as well but not all of them wear them all the time like Husk, Van/Vaggie, or Alastor) I personally think Charlie made them all herself and let everyone write their own names, but she enjoyed picking colours and all that :)

Her red cheek things were a bit strange to me and I gotta be honest I didn’t like them very much so I replaced them with a softer peach gradient on her cheeks and hips to give an extra warmness to her. I want her to seem like the kind of person that can give a REALLY firm handshake and also a very good hug and talk about anything. Oh her little wave is supposed to look kind of like that weird royal wave I see those royal people do sometimes. I thought it’d be a cute little thing to add slightly-off regal mannerisms where I could.

I hope the goat motifs came through well enough, I really like abnormal legs (you will begin to notice this soon) and they really just add so much personality to me I love working with them. I wanted Charlie to be kind of chubby and soft looking hence the colour choice leaning more towards warm rather than hot and trying to use less pointed shapes with her like the little gold ball tassels on her bolo-tie. About the bolo-tie! The little gem on the inside is purple to symbolise the pride ring, but it also allows direct transport to other layers of hell. Sinners cannot use this even if they get their hands on it, but it’s still incredibly rare and valuable because of materials and such. It’s like an eco friendly private jet. Maybe Taylor Swift should get her hands on one of these! :)

And if anyone was wondering yes I did want the purple to also look a bit like a nether portal.. it was a good opportunity.

The last little details I want to note are the faint heart motifs on her ear and hooves. For the hooves it’s really cheesy but I think the metaphorical idea of leaving a tiny bit of love wherever she goes is cute and I like being sappy. The ear heart being a tear has always meant some kind of “hurt to get what you love” thing to me. I don’t fully know how to describe it but it’s not in a toxic mentality, she just does a lot of stressful stuff to get her dreams and passions going and I think shes great for that.

I plan on drawing her true form eventually and maybe showing a little animation of transformation (I just want an excuse to draw her tail again)

Overall Charlie is one of my favourites to draw and write for, shes just such a sweetie and I love her to death 🩷 she is quite literally the heart of the hotel and she is doing her best! Excited to post again later today :3 📻

[vbee-miya]

Loved the matchups now can I have a normal one for haikyuu and demon slayer

A male one btw

I'm a straight short girl use she/her pronouns, im around 5'2 with long brown hair and eyes and a leo also a infp,im also ace as for which one im not too sure atm as i just found out not ling ago. I'm 21. I like anime,dragons,reptiles,drawing but I'm not good,tarantulas,sweets,video games, memes,dark humor. I am very kind but I care more about others than I do myself. I have bad anxiety. I tend to overthink about everything. I love to sing especially country music but I am tone deaf. I have trouble standing up for myself because I was bullied alot. I can be very blunt. I also love to swear. I can be very loud. I love a good mystery and cop shows. I love dad jokes and puns.I am terrified of bees and heights. I am very lazy but I can be good at doing stuff if motivated. , unless I know it will happen or if I touch someone. I accidentally snap at people and I find people's pain hilarious so if someone gets hurt there is a good chance I will laugh at them. I sound meaner than intended sometimes. I can have trouble showing that im thankful at times. I pick at scabs as a nervous habit. I love to add alot of lemon juice to my tea to where it's more lemon than tea. When I'm woken up early with low sleep I am very mean and grumpy. I cant tell when people are joking and take it seriously. I do have asphergers which is a form of autism. Becuase of it I am a very picky person with foods and such.

I am very kind but people take advantage of it and I don't usually fight back. I also have adhd and I can go on forever about something but I don't know when to stop and should be told to if it's getting annoying. I have self esteem issues at times as well.

I am a bit overweight it isn't shown well I have thick thighs and am just a but chubby around the stomach it isn't noticeable unless I wear somethign small I usually wear large t-shirts.I have a few weird talents. I can put my foot behind my head while standing and both while sitting down. I can burp for 14 seconds. I have been told I have resting bitch face. When someone stops talking to me my attention goes to something else so I won't be able to hear what they said if they say something again so I end up saying what alot cause I loose focus easily. I am incredibly stubborn if I want something done.

For dislikes I don't like people who don't understand that I'm different and ignore my sensitivities. I also don't like smoking it bothers me. For my love languages im not too sure probably gift giving or quality time as I love to just laze around in bed and play games.

༺❀༻ matchup ༺❀༻

haikyuu one

honestly i was going to match you with issei.

but daichi is definitely a better fit. he’s a sexy cop man that’s all I can say. but listen issei is also just as sexy and working in a funeral is sexy.

anyways daichi. he’d think your adoration for dragons and reptiles are pretty damn cool just like your drawings. because headcanon he can’t draw for shit and even if he did try it still wouldn’t look like what he’d want.

i also can’t keep thinking about how daichi low key looks like thomas crusader. if not by looks then definitely the vibes. idk that’s just my random take.

anyways your humor and his humor certainly don’t fit like puzzle pieces. but he’d try to understand dark humor which honestly he still wouldn’t find funny. though if it’s a funny meme then what the hell. he’ll give a good deep of a laughter. but he can’t resist a good dad joke and actually would be clever enough to come up with new ones when you guys are taking a stroke in some place.

he’d be weary of you about not fully putting yourself first than others, and he’ll remind you that. he’d make sure you’re taking care of yourself and even if it’s difficult he’ll be there to motivate you. after all you are talking to a former volleyball captain. it’s only natural he’s good with words and motivations of that sorts.

when you overthink he’ll hear you out but pull you back into reality. and tell you to take everything one step at a time. no matter how much you’re thinking about something, the moment you start getting ahead of yourself daichi would pull you out of the loop hole and take time to live in the moment and critically think about things one step at a time and make sure those steps aren’t just empty words but actions as well.

you’re bluntness might scare him, but honestly it’s more of the fact that he appreciates you for it. not many people who say they’re blunt are blunt. he’d also completely ignore you swearing. not that he’s got a problem he just wouldn’t care for it unless if it’s around his parents then he’ll have a word with you elsewhere. really playing that cop fantasy.

as mean as you may portray or perceive yourself daichi knows you’ve got a good heart. and even though it’ll take time for him to actually understand everything about you, just know in those times of being together he’s got insane patience and will never ignore you sensitivities. and like any decent human being will always accept you for who you are and will help you get better because you make them feel like they can also better themselves.

daichi even as great of a motivator as he is sucks at getting motivated. that’s only a joke though but if you give him something in exchange or even a simple talk in quality time he’ll forever be grateful to you. and also i will like to add quality time with you and daichi is watching action acclaimed shows and movies especially ones with cops and he’d play judge and see how well thought out and played the roles of the law are.

[girlbossminerva]

MERMAID HEEL GUILD SALT

Aside from all the other guilds, Mermaid Heel is a guild that only accepts those of the female gender as said by Millianna who said those two (Sho, and Wally) couldn't join even if they wanted to, and men acting as women would possibly fuck up the guild's reputation, honestly the feeling of an all girls guild just gives me life, maybe even fanfic ideas but aside from that.

These characters aren't all that needed or should I say are just around for Mashima to say he believes in feminism, he has another concept as to what feminism is.

One of the girls who is chubby, has the ability to... change her body with her gravity magic into the same body template used for all the others girls, and says, "Don't underestimate chubby power."

"Uh, you ain't even chubby in this form..." - Me.

Arana Webb, should have just been a spider girl, fast asf reflexes and a nice sense of style, but... oh god, oneshot, and shes out???

Where is y'all guild master??

Millianna got bigger tiddies, that's it. And a hoe-ified outfit, sorry if it sounds rude but her outfit before the seven year shit.

Kagura... WHERE'D YOU EVEN COME FROM???

And the little one, can barely remember her name uhh, guess your alright...

As a concept mermaid heel can be interesting to explore specially when, like me, you headcanon it being a sapphic only/majority guild but yeah, It's just Mashima kind of going "yes, I'm a feminist, now stop looking i how i overly sexualize every single female character under the sun." And just like most characters introduced in the gmg they don't get enough time to develop properly and fully outside of like kagura, which is debatable.

The chubby girl is Risley and FUCK DO I HATE THE WAY HER MAGIC WORKS. IT DOESN'T EVEN MAKE SENSE, IF IT'S GRAVITY MAGIC AND IT TURNS HER SKINNY DOES THAT MEAN HER ENTIRE BODY IS BEING FORCED TO BE UNDER MASSIVE GRAVITATIONAL PRESSURE OR SOMETHING?? HOW DO HER ORGANS SURVIVE THAT?? It makes no sense, he should just admit that he hates fat people

Araña is my niche beloved actually, i have created her entire characterization in my head. First of all she's Hispanic (dominicana), second she's one of those people who are so chill that you can't help but also feel relaxed in her presence, third she likes crocheting and makes sweaters for her friends, and fourth she has a collection of pet spiders plus a prying mantis. Also yes, she's basically spiderman and she would have lasted longer in that damn battle.

I actually kind of redesigned millianna's outfit a while back, thought I did trace the oficial art cause my drawing skills are minimal. Is it great? No, but it does have more personality than the literal underwear she's put on post-time skip. And the little one that has farm girl vibes is Beth, she honestly is just there cause the teams are meant to have 5 people in them.

Now Kagura I do love, mostly because she's too gay to function when around Erza and I do love me some sword ladies, but thinking about her role in the story, she does suffer from the "not enough time to develop this" issue. She's just suddenly popped into the universe to kind of acknowledge again Jellal's crimes (which, is it necessary if that is all his character is about?) and half-heartedly attempt to talk about them but yeah, it was fucking stupid that suddenly simon had a sister, it would've made more sense if she was one of the enslaved kids or something.

[teaspoon-full-of-sugar]

tangled up in blue

pairing: harry styles x plus size!reader

warnings: fluff, comfort, mentions of anxiety, kinda angsty

word count: 4.4k

synopsis: harry has a rude encounter with a fan

author’s note: sorry for another rushed ending, but other than that, i hope you enjoy xx all the love

masterlist

—

It’s his first day off in weeks, and he is taking full advantage of it. After such a stressful few months, he wants nothing more than to spend this short break with his girlfriend. 

It’s two in the afternoon before he gets out of bed, and that’s only because the weak little grumbling in his stomach became too much to ignore. With no real food in the house, Y/N called in an order to their regular place, as long as he is the one who picks it up. 

He decides to walk, since the restaurant is only a few blocks away from his home, but when he catches a couple paps trying to get pictures a little ways down the road, he knew he should have driven. He’s glad Y/N stayed home, since photos of her rarely get out, and he knows that she wouldn’t have been comfortable with it. 

He sighs, trying to not let them ruin his first relaxing day in a while, but it’s hard. Harry likes his privacy, and sadly, he chose the wrong career. He would never say that he hates what he does. He loves being able to bring joy and kindness to people who really need it, even if it is just for a couple of minutes. 

He just wishes he could have some more space and privacy and freedom to do his own thing. He wishes he could go out on his day off without being stopped or having people trying (and failing) to take a sneaky picture of him, which, again, is an absolute invasion of his privacy. 

He would never snap at anyone, well, no one except the paparazzi, not only because he was taught early on that he shouldn’t do that, but also because he wasn’t that type of person. While he still may not be used to the significance of his stardom, he still understands that he is a role model to many people, and he needs to act as such.  

“I have an order to pick up,” he says to the hostess, who just stares at him for a second, jaw dropped slightly. It’s not the usual woman who gives him his orders, so he gives her a moment. She bounces back rather quickly. 

“Uh, what’s the name?” She asks, trying not to draw any unwanted attention toward him, which he appreciates. 

“Y/N.” 

She taps away at the register, tells him the total, and he pays. 

“I’ll go check and see if your order’s done. If not, it should be just a couple of minutes.”

“No problem.” He smiles. 

“Harry?” 

He turns to see a nervous looking girl with a bright tee knotted around her middle and a pretty pearl necklace tight around her neck. She brushes a tuft of brown hair over her shoulder, fiddling with her fingers. She’s only a little shorter than him, but she still doesn’t meet his eye. 

“C-could I get a picture?” 

He honestly doesn’t want to. 

He knows that one photo will lead to dozens more, and he just wants to get his food, go home, and cuddle up with Y/N, but she looks sweet, and the hopeful look in her eyes makes him cave.

“Sure,” he says weakly, taking a quick photo. 

“How’s Y/N?” The girl asks when she puts her phone away, desperate for a little more time with him. A beaming smile takes over his features, and he sits on a stool at the bar, feet tucking behind the bottom bars. It’s not very often he gets asked about her, but whenever he does, he takes full advantage of it; that is, of course, if the person seems genuinely interested and not just asking him for the sake of conversation. 

The public was a little less than understanding or supportive of their relationship when it was, forcibly, made known. Being friends and neighbors since childhood, Y/N has been a present figure in the early parts of his life. They grew further and further apart after he left for The X Factor, to the point where they didn’t even speak to each other. It was tough because she wanted absolutely nothing to do with the life that he led, and he couldn’t just give up everything he worked so hard toward. 

They reconnected some years ago when he was visiting home, and she had a break from uni. It was a slow build to what it is today, mostly because Y/N was hesitant about everything that came with being with him, like distance between them, negative publicity, and, of course, his fans, but, as she always said, he made everything worth it. 

When their relationship was leaked in the press, they had to prematurely address the rumors. Not that Harry is embarrassed or ashamed of her, quite the opposite, really, but he just had one too many relationships fall apart due to the pressure the media put on them. He didn’t want to put Y/N through that; he didn’t want to see her to realize that, perhaps, he wasn’t worth the negative attention. 

“She’s great,” he says. “We’re gonna go hiking later this evening, hopefully get a good view of the sunset.” 

“That’s nice,” she smiles, happy that he’s happy, and he breathes out a sigh of relief. It’s refreshing to meet someone who is actually 

His smile fades when a girl behind him scoffs. 

“That’s surprising.” 

He wants to believe that she’s not commenting on his conversation, but he knows better than anyone that she’s listening in; hell, he could feel the eyes of everyone in the diner the second he stepped inside, but just because he’s been doing this for years doesn’t mean that he’s not immune to the voices and the stares. He’s gotten pretty good at being able to ignore them, and he tries his best to do the same with her. 

The brunette, who also seems to have noticed the girl behind him, flushes red, pity apparent on her features. He gives her an uncomfortable, closed mouth smile, trying to focus back on their own conversation. 

“I mean, have you seen her?” The girl behind him continues, laughing lightly. 

It makes his chest ache, anger settling deep in his stomach, burning and vengeful. Never has anyone made such blatant comments about her; they normally say that sort of stuff behind the safety of a screen and certainly not right in front of him. He knows what people say about his love. They make negative comments every little thing about her, the biggest one being her weight, and he never says anything because Y/N thinks that it would make everything worse, but she’s not here to hold him back. 

He turns to face the girls behind him. The one whose back is still facing toward him, leaned in close to the other, as though that’s enough to hide what she’s saying. 

“I beg your pardon?” 

They’re both young, but surely old enough to know better. One of the girls, with brown hair with a pink strip in the front, blanches when he catches her eye, an apologetic look on her face; she looks close to tears, even, stuttering hopelessly. 

“Dee—” 

“I didn’t expect him to be a chubby chaser.”

“Excuse me?” 

The girl with bright red hair, Dee, he assumes, finally turns to face him, a shameless smirk on her face. 

“I am so sorry,” the brunette begins, but her friend, fueled by desperation and spite, cocks her head to the side, chest puffing out beneath a “Treat People with Kindness” shirt, the rainbow colored words taunting him. 

How ironic. 

“I mean… am I wrong?” She asks, looking at him expectantly. 

“How dare you?” He seethes, standing fully, towering over her seated figure. He knows he shouldn’t be giving her the slightest bit of attention. That’s exactly what she wants, to get a reaction out of him, and he’s playing into her game, but he honestly doesn’t care. A heated red paints his skin, trailing up from his neck to the tip of his nose. He can barely breathe, let alone speak clearly, frustration and anger choking him. 

He struggles to find his voice, but when he does, he can’t stop them from spilling out, malice and disgust dripping with every word. 

“I have never been so disappointed and ashamed in someone who claims to be a fan of mine. How can you wear that shirt while passing judgement on someone I love very much, who you have never seen or met? And I pray that you will never meet her because she doesn’t deserve such vile things being said about her.”

He turns to see the hostess with a large paper bag in a stunned silence, and he takes it from her wordlessly. 

“I’m sorry,” he mutters to the sweet girl, ashamed that he snapped like he did, but she gives him a proud smile and moves, so he can leave. 

—

Someone apparently recorded the encounter, and the video is trending on Twitter by the time he gets home. Jeff is the one who told him about it, sending him a link and a long message about how much of a PR nightmare it’s going to be. Especially when the reception is less than positive. While some think he was being too nice, others are saying that he shouldn’t have lashed out (their words, not his) at someone who is a fan and supports him, but Harry knows that there is no winning. Everyone always finds something to say about things that are clearly none of their business. He even saw a few comments about Y/N, how she should fight her own battles and not have Harry do them for her. 

They make him feel nauseous. 

“Hey, babe,” he says as he enters their apartment, Munchy, Y/N’s cat, weaving and purring between his legs. Whenever he gets home, he can feel the stresses of the day shrink to nothing, and he’s finally able to relax. A smile creeps over his face when he sees her, leaning against the counter with a mug of tea cupped in her hands. She hasn’t changed out of the boxers and the large yellow tee from that morning, but her hair is still wet from a shower, the scent of her fruity soap strong. 

“Hey,” she says softly, and he leans in for a kiss, only for her to turn at the last moment, lips unfortunately pressing to her cheek. She takes the bag from him. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she says, tugging the takeaway boxes from the bag, not even offering him a glance. 

He knows that she’ll tell him what’s really wrong in her own due time, so he can’t push her; that makes it worse for everyone involved. However, he has gotten pretty good at coaxing it out of her. All it takes is a little patience and affection, and she’s putty in his hands. 

He presses kisses to her temple, tracing his lips down the length of her tender skin to the shell of her ear, nibbling playfully. He dips his hand beneath her shirt, feeling her stomach tense beneath his touch. After such an exhausting day, he just wants to be with her, feel her warmth and love. He’s never really been able to find comfort or safety in any of his past lovers, and when he found that in Y/N, he never misses an opportunity to shower her with affection, teasing and biting at her skin. He just wants to melt and forget about his problems, to just be there, in the present, with her. 

His little bubble is popped when she shoves his hand away, probably harder than she really meant to, but it hurts him, nonetheless. She turns and gives him a weak little smile, her eyes, glassy and unable to meet his gaze. She looks like a shell, nervous and empty, and he knows exactly why she’s acting the way she is. She must have seen the video and probably the nasty comments people left about her. 

“Baby—” 

“Let’s eat, yeah?” She changes the subject, pulling out some silverware from the drawer.  “This one mine?” 

“Yeah, your usual,” he says softly. 

They eat in an awkward silence, old sitcom reruns playing in the background, tension thick in the air. He can’t focus on anything but her breaths, shaky and shallow with anxiety. He knows that this entire situation is weighing heavily on her mind, and he needs to get everything off his chest. He wants to pull her into his arms, stroke her hair, and tell her to not listen to anything anyone says, that she’s it for him. 

It's going to happen, all in due time; he’ll get nowhere if he doesn’t go at her pace. 

“You shouldn’t have done that,” she mutters suddenly, picking at her food. “Not that I don’t appreciate it, but I don’t want you putting your career at stake by standing up for me.”

He understands; he knows what it feels like to constantly be worried about what other people think, to have it impact every single decision you make. He’s mulled over everything he’s done for the past decade, but, at the same time, he’s her boyfriend first. He could honestly give a damn about his public image if it meant he had to stand by a listen to people say those nasty things about her. 

“You would do the same for me,” he says, and she sighs. 

“It’s not the same thing.” 

“I don’t understand why we're arguing about this,” he says abruptly, placing his food onto the side table and turning fully toward her. 

“I’m not—” She breathes out quickly, standing up. She tugs her clothes down, loosening them, and she crosses her arms, feeling vulnerable for some reason. Harry has never passed any judgement to her for the way she looked, knowing full well that she’s struggled with her weight her entire life, but this entire situation is making her feel insecure and weak and anxious. She feels like he is going to think that she’s being too sensitive about it, melodramatic about the severity of their comments. 

“I’m not trying to start an argument. I just don’t think you understand that there’s going to be a lot of backlash for this.”

She’s embarrassed that he even needs to stand up for her. He should be with someone who is used to being in the spotlight, and, most importantly, he deserves to be able to go out with someone without people commenting or staring. He shouldn’t be with someone who makes people wonder why he’s with her, of all people. 

It’s not only her physical appearance that people comment on; she’s seen fans talk about how Harry doesn’t go out anymore, how she is never present at any concerts or any other special events, even though they don’t know she has severe social anxiety and a career that keeps her from being with him all the time. She truly wishes she could be all of those things for him, but she can’t, and that’s what breaks her heart the most. 

Harry deserves nothing less than the world, and he settled for her. 

And with everyone else in the world questioning why he chose her, of all people, why wouldn’t he think the same? 

“There would be even more backlash if I had just ignored it, right?” 

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” she says, “but, it’s not like it’s going to stop people from saying—” 

She can’t even say it, their all too familiar words leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. No matter how many times Harry tells her to pay no mind to their comments, she can’t help it. She truly hates how much other people’s opinions about her impact her, with paralyzing fear and doubt filtering through her thoughts on a daily basis, but she can’t help it. 

“Saying what?”

“You know,” she whimpers, eyes glassy. “No matter what you do, there will always be people who say that I don’t deserve you. There will always be people out there who think I’m ugly o-or too fat for you and—” She chokes on her words, tears finally breaking through. A weak sob leaves her lips, faint and broken. “It’s not like it’s not true, so there’s no point in fighting it if it’s going to ruin your reputation.” 

She starts to pace, one hand tucking into the curve of her waist while the other pinches the bridge of her nose, feeling a headache forming.

“Whoa, hey, okay,” he stutters, standing. He holds onto her arms, hands rubbing over her cool skin, trying to comfort her, but she weakly pushes him away again, rubbing her nose. She pulls at the bottom of her shirt and wipes away her tears, leaving it wrinkled and wet. She sniffles, struggling to keep the panic from growing any further in her chest, heart racing painfully. 

She moves into their bedroom, and he follows close behind, their food long forgotten as she tries to control her breathing. 

“What’s this really about?” He asks. She pauses, her shoulders visibly sinking, and she sits on the foot of the bed, hooking her feet on the footboard. She cradles legs to her chest and tugs her shirt over them, forehead pressed against her knees. 

She’s exhausted at this point. Ever since she saw the video and the comments, she’s been torn. She’s grateful that Harry said something; it made her hopeful that maybe it would make them stop, even if it was for only a day, but when she saw people actually defending the girl who said those terrible things about her, all of that pride was pulled away, leaving nothing behind other than debilitating anxiety and bone-chilling fear. 

She just wants the day to be over, as if that will make everything go away. 

She knows that they need to talk about it, but she’s afraid. She’s afraid of what this conversation could lead to; he could realize that he doesn’t want to deal with everything anymore or that he doesn’t want to deal with the strain that it puts on his relationship with the public. 

The bed shifts as he kneels beside her, hand pressing against the small of her back.

“Y/N, please, don’t shut me out,” he whispers. She whimpers when he kisses her temple, an attempt at trying to ease her out of this miserable hole she’s dug for herself. She finally looks up at him with swollen, burning eyes, tears threatening to fall. 

“I just don’t want you to wake up one day and realize that I’m not worth all of this. You shouldn’t even need to say anything to people.”

“You’re right. I shouldn’t have to say anything to them, but that has absolutely nothing to do with you. I have to say things because of all of the judgmental people in the world, who body shame the woman that I love, a woman who they know absolutely nothing about.” 

“I don’t want you to start believing them, and I just don’t want you to regret me.”

“Why would I ever regret you?” 

“Why wouldn’t you?” She snaps, her lips quivering. “I’m not like the others.” 

“That’s what I love about you.”

“I’m not cut out for this,” she cries.

Hurt passes over his features, and the words die on his tongue. A pinch of fear starts in his stomach and spreads up to his heart, which races painfully, chills rushing through his spine. 

“What are you saying?” 

She doesn’t answer; she can’t. She didn’t mean for it to slip out. It’s usually just a passing thought when her insecurities come at full force. She’s never actually said it aloud, for fear of its repercussions. She doesn’t want to lose him. Even if she isn’t cut out for this sort of lifestyle, he is worth absolutely everything. 

“Y/N,” he says, cupping her cheeks. He wipes away her tears with his thumbs, but more fall to replace the ones he tried to clear. He hates how much this has affected her, and he hates that it’s his fault, too. She holds onto his wrists, fingers trailing up and down his heated skin, from his calloused hands to his elbows, their gaze never breaking. 

“I love you. Nothing anyone says will make me feel differently. Would you still love me if I gained a ton of weight or if I was just skin and bones?”

“Of course,” she says quickly. 

“This is no different,” he smiles. “I do regret many things in my life. I regret some choices I’ve made, I regret things I’ve said, and I regret being selfish. But you?” He shakes his head. “You will never be one of my regrets. You are beautiful inside and out. You make me want to be better, you make me look forward to every new day, and you give me strength.” 

Her heart swells at his words. Harry has always been a very emotive man when it came to her. He was never ashamed to let her know exactly how he felt, probably because of the years where he felt hopeless and couldn’t express himself fully. He leans in a little closer, his forehead resting against hers, and she can feel her worries tapering off with every shallow breath. 

“My love, you have no idea what you do to me,” he whispers, rubbing his nose against hers. He brushes away her tears, leaving her skin sticky. “Not one fuckin’ clue about the nights where I wanted nothing more than to be just with you, to be able to see you and laugh with you. Remember the night before my audition? And I asked if I could kiss you because I’d never kissed anyone before, and I didn’t want to seem like an absolute dud.” 

She nods. 

She pondered over that night for years. He was rambling and nervous, but she didn’t hear anything after he asked if he could kiss her, her mind going completely blank. Of course, she said yes. She had a crush on him for years, how could she say no? Even if it was just once, if it was just one fleeting moment in her life, she held onto it with everything she could. 

It was her first kiss, too, and she was so nervous with trembling hands and clammy skin. It seemed too good to be true: the boy she’s liked since as long as she could remember was going to kiss her; perhaps, there was hope for them after all. 

When they pulled apart, his hair messy and cheeks rosy, she thought that he was going to kiss her again. From the look in his eyes, he seemed like he was completely enamored with her, at a loss for breath with a soft gaze, but he didn’t. Her mind was playing tricks on her because all he said was “thanks”, and he laid back down, on his side, not even facing her. The hope she felt was crushed. Then, he left the next morning, and they never spoke about it again. The memory of that night leaves her heart aching. 

“Bullshit, all of it. I jus’ wanted to know how your lips would feel against mine, how soft and warm your body would feel. For months, I would think about that night, and I wished I could go back and tell you the truth, that I loved you. You have no idea how grateful I am to have you back in my life, to have you here, by my side, to hold and love.” 

As she gazes into his eyes, she can feel the truth in his words, the dedication, and the pain, most of all. 

He doesn’t want to lose her like he did all those years ago. 

He felt the same during those years apart, hopelessly wandering into the arms of various lovers to try to replace what he felt for her. He’s spent nearly an entire decade, searching for that one person to fill the void in his heart that Y/N claimed when they were just kids, much like she had with him. He yearned for a person, who would support and loyalty him just as she had, but they never cared as deeply as he did, nor did they feel and love just as strongly as he did. 

“I love you for everything you are, not just your heart or your mind but also your beautiful body, babylove. Don’t let anyone tell you any differently.” 

His lips tease over hers, just barely touching before she finally catches his lips after such a painstakingly long moment of silence after his confession, and they both are overwhelmed with the feeling of absolute relief, like they’re finally able to breathe.

He guides her onto her back, his knee nestling between her legs, blue sheets bunched up around her waist. He gently eases his hand below her shirt, fingers faint on the soft and pliant skin. She combs her nails through his hair, scratching and teasing. Her body alive and heated beneath his touch, they melt into each other, forgetting everything wrong with the world and focusing solely on each other, the pinch of teeth biting lips and the rush of chills down her spine. He feels up her thighs, tender touch on her soft skin, but she pulls away from him, fingers still latched in his hair, hesitation clear on her features. 

“Please,” he whispers. “Jus’ wanna make you feel good.” He kisses her beneath the curve of her jaw, the warmth of his breath leaving her heart racing. “Wanna make you feel loved, make you feel as beautiful as you are.” 

There’s not many things Harry can find safety with. Since his life in the public eye, he’s had to make a lot of sacrifices. It’s difficult to find considerate strangers, safe refuges, and genuine friends, but he knows that he can always find solace with her, in their home, together, blanketed in warmth and tangled up in blue. 

—

[precuredaily]

Precure Day 185

Episode: Yes! Precure 5 37 - “Operation Healthy Coco” Date watched: 14 May 2020 Original air date: 21 October 2007 Screenshots: https://imgur.com/a/Sc5B6vA Transformation Gallery: https://imgur.com/a/6k6SzS0 Project info and master list of posts: http://tinyurl.com/PCDabout

what has been seen cannot be unseen

I might get some crap for this but I don’t particularly like this episode either. I think Bloody just had an absolutely fantastic introduction so everything after it for a while is going to feel a bit lackluster. Not to say it doesn’t have some great moments, but.... well, you’ll see.

The Plot

Coco has been scarfing down the cream puffs lately, and the girls are starting to notice when he struggles to push himself up. He appears very rotund as a fairy, but transforms human and says he’s fine. However, Nuts lifts his friend’s shirt to prove otherwise.

make of that what you will

We are never shown exactly what he looks like, but the girls responses tell us all we need to know. Urara in particular is fairly blunt, saying he had a fat and pudgy stomach. Nozomi is pretty okay with it, but she changes her tune when Karen and Rin point out that the problem is his diet and lack of exercise, not just getting chubby. Milk takes charge and puts him on a diet.

Over in Nightmare, Kawarino offhandedly mentions that Gamao was useless, which disturbs Bunbee because he didn’t realize his last employee had been so carelessly killed. Hadenya tells him to get over it and then sets out.

Coco’s diet is going well, except for all the times he tries to sneak into the kitchen in the middle of the night to grab some cream puffs, or sneak some into his lunchbox. He gets outright depressed when he can’t eat some, so the girls conspire with Milk to make him a special meal. It goes about as well as the last time they tried to cook together. One night, Coco sneaks out of his room to the kitchen for some cream puffs, and instead finds the best gag in the episode: the fridge is completely empty except for an exercise wheel.

I just imagine Nuts going through the effort to empty the fridge and store all the food somewhere else, all so he could put this wheel in there when Coco inevitably tried to sneak a bite. So yes, Nuts shows up and says getting exercise is important as well as he demonstrates the use of the wheel. A+ television here.

Another day, Coco is out walking and smells the all-too familiar scent of choux creme. He finds a food truck selling them, and the sweet lady who runs it (who is definitely not Hadenya) offers him free samples!

He almost takes it, but he thinks about the girls, Milk, and even Nuts all working hard to help him eat more healthily, and refuses. Hadenya wolfs down the plate and then turns the food truck into a Kowaina, and throws Coco into the cabin, high enough where he’d hurt himself if he jumped. The girls catch wind of this and show up to fight. They feel their hands are tied because they don’t want to hurt Coco, and Hadenya says she’ll give him back if they give her the Dream Collet. She further taunts them by saying Coco ate cream puffs. However, what is supposed to be a damning claim gets brushed aside because aside from not being true, the girls know Coco has a stronger will than that, and he wouldn’t break his vow like that. Dream persuades Coco to jump so that she can catch him, and then they safely take out the Kowaina.

Back at Natts House, the girls surprise Coco with the fruits of their labor: special vegetarian cream puffs! Coco can see the burns and cuts on their bodies as a sign of how hard they worked so he tries one, and it’s delicious! But then Milk steps in to say he shouldn’t have any more or he’ll relapse on his diet, and tries to eat the rest. Karen points out that Milk has been eating an awful lot lately, and has gotten rather chubby herself. Everyone agrees Milk should get some exercise as well, and the last scene of the episode would be great for the “Inhuman Anime Girl Sounds” Twitter, as Milk lets out a cry.

The Analysis

If you’re not aware, Japan is a very skinny culture, with an obesity rate of about 4% (compare to the US’s 40+%), and in 2008 the federal government enacted the Metabo Law which set a universal maximum acceptable waist measurement for men and women ages 40 to 75, with financial penalties for local governments and companies that had large levels of noncompliance. I couldn’t find a whole lot of information on stigma against overweight people in daily life, but in general the only socially acceptable fat people are sumo wrestlers. All of that is to say that, while they do mostly treat Coco’s weight as the butt of the joke, there is some progressive thinking going on as well, in that their concern is less purely that he’s getting fat as much as it is the fact that he’s not eating a balanced diet. It’s an important distinction to make, and the driving force of the rest of the episode is getting him to eat healthy, not JUST losing weight. It’s not a bad premise but I don’t think they make the most of the idea, the episode is largely comprised of gags about Coco trying to sneak a bite and being told “no”.

Most notably, Nozomi doesn’t seem very bothered by Coco’s weight gain. She takes it in stride, saying a little fat isn’t so bad. It’s only when they mention his unhealthy diet that she says “oh no that’s not okay” and that’s a pretty good way to take it. After all, if he’s chubby, there’s more of him to love, but if he’s not healthy, then he may die an early death. Perspective.

Now, it seems like they writers are trying to drawing a comparison between Coco and Hadenya with her remarks about eating everything, as if eating makes you a bad person, or being fat is evil, but...... it just doesn’t really make a whole lot of sense. She’s evil because she takes enjoyment in the suffering of others, Gamao was evil because he didn’t care about the feelings of others and just wanted personal gain, neither of them were evil because of their eating habits. It’s a weird thing to throw in there and it doesn’t tell us anything more about Hadenya except that she’s impulsive, so...... it falls flat. Honestly the most interesting thing she did this episode was try to poison Coco..... at least I think that’s what the goal was? She ate them herself when he refused so maybe they were fine but then what was her goal? just to say “Haha you cheated on your diet and now the Precure won’t be friends with you, and they’ll hand over the Dream Collet”? That doesn’t make ANY sense, even if she planned to trap Coco in the Kowaina. And for that matter how did she even know he was on a diet? I would have assumed she was just tempting him because his love of choux creme is well-known, but when she’s taunting the cures she specifically lies and says he cheated on his diet, so...... it’s just weird. Come to think of it, poisoning him before they got the Dream Collet isn’t the smartest thing either, so it was just a bad plan all around. I applaud the plan if only for how extra she got with it, Hadenya isn’t typically one for disguises.

The highlight of this episode is easily the cooking segment. I would call that the saving grace, even. The comedy is so on point, I want to watch an entire series of these girls’ hijinks in the kitchen. The last time we got this was in episode 15, when they all cook for Nozomi’s ill mother, and well..... some of them have not learned. Karen still screws up portion sizes, Urara’s just kinda clumsy, and Komachi still wants to add youkan to porridge, although this actually works out. But anyway, the comic timing of their kitchen antics is absolutely perfect and I love how they play off of each other, with Rin and now Milk being the lone voices of reason. This is what Kirakira could have been (we’ll talk about that eventually). The payoff to it all is really good, too, the vegetarian choux cremes they make look delicious and if you check the gallery I included their detailed directions for making them. No portion sizes but it’s an idea to try out. Tag me if you do!

And lastly some bookkeeping:

The “dokkoisho” that Coco and later Milk utter when they fall is an old colloquial term, basically like “heave ho”. In general it implies putting strength towards something, and in this case suggests that they’re struggling to push themselves up because they’re heavy. From what I can tell, it originates with Hokkaido fishing villages and was popularized in their sea shanties.

The kowaina’s voice is higher pitched than normal, and I’m not sure why. It seems to be the same actress as usual.

The shot of Milk with the sign is very exploitable and my friend @precurehoroscopes has made a version you can play with:

Next time, man this series is full of ideas that would get explored fully in later shows isn’t it? Milk is rewriting the story of Cinderella with the girls as the characters and it’s..... a trip. Look forward to it!

Pink Precure Catchphrase Count: 2 kettei!

[sheanam]

Outliers Who’s Who!

Actually you know what, it’s been a long time since I talked about my characters to any degree at all, and I’ve seen friends make fun posts about their own crews lately, so between all the goofy random doodles I do with little explanation and my webcomic Outliers being on hiatus for several months due to unavoidable irl circumstances, I feel it’s probably a good time to introduce all you lovely recent followers to the people I like to draw all the time, and also give a refresher to the awesome patient folks who’ve been following for a while! And properly introduce a couple new faces I’ve only just started drawing!

Outliers is a romantic slice-of-life focusing on Walt and Chary, a long-time gay couple, and assorted other characters doing their best to live their lives in a world full of superpowers and aliens and magic and other comic book cliches; it follows them through the years and there’s all manner of life events and such. Shit Happens now and again, but there’s lots of positivity and cute people and occasional goofiness. And date nights. And bird monsters.

The following are (plot spoiler-free!) blurbs on the two main characters of the comic, plus several assorted supporting characters, some of whom I don’t draw as much as I should but are important and who I’m fond of, and some who won’t actually show up in the comic for a looong time but I love them very very much and can’t stop drawing and thinking about them. There are other background characters, lots of ‘em, but (most of) these guys are the ones you’ll see me draw the most often on this here blog!

Zachary ‘Chary’ C. Milford

One of the two mains. A big, chubby, gentle guy with sleepy sad eyes who’s genuinely a nice person, occasionally grumbly but soft-hearted to a fault. Indiana Hoosier and midwestern as hell, raised by a single mom. Loves dad jokes and puns, cheesy ties and collecting records, is bi and has been dating Walt for the better part of a decade. They’re pretty damn inseparable at this point. A few years back was horribly injured and left disabled and scarred after getting caught in a terrible supervillain attack. It can be tough, but he tries not to let it slow him down. Is the good sort of lawyer and rarely swears, radiates pure Dad Energy at all times.

Walter T. Corvi

The other of the two mains. Short-ish, slender, swears like a boatload of sailors. Currently identifies as a gay nonbinary man and uses he/him and they/them pronouns, is pretty feminine in most of his presentation choices, going between fashionable as hell and frumpy comfort depending on mood. A middle child, hails from one of the rich parts of Long Island, but it doesn’t take much for him or his large Italian family to sound like extras from The Nanny. Is a metahuman with the superpower to turn into a big ‘wereraven’ type bird monster, which runs fairly commonly in their family, but chose to stay out of the hero business. Works as a cook and is great at it, it’s a passion of his.

Hoshiko ‘Iko’ Nieri

Iko is of mixed race, but primarily identifies as Japanese. She’s also a lawyer, tough as nails and also the good sort, and Chary’s co-worker and friend. She’s cis, but prefers and feels happy not being particularly feminine most of the time. Works out a lot and has a mean right hook and a delightfully obnoxious laugh.

Keeg-Ok

Keeg’s a weird huge gargoyle monster dude from a magical pocket dimension who got dumped out into the ‘main’ one. Exceptionally friendly and sunny, he adapted to modern everyday life quickly, building a career as a cook (he loves fancy cooking) and a family of his own. Walt’s co-worker and friend. Your best spiky friend if you let him be.

Mary Hell

The young daughter of a human man and a demon from ‘down under’. Cheerful, pleasant, and eager to please, she’s taking steps to become a fully licensed superhero and use her powers for good. A member of the metahuman support group Chary and Iko support as its legal team. Yes, her name’s a pun.

Edmund Irving Rudyard Hawke II

Edmund 2.0 is probably more accurate, honestly. Edmund Hawke Sr. was your standard evil comic book CEO, like Lex Luthor or Kingpin, and when he died heirless he had his organization make a clone of him to inherit and take over the company and continue their work. It was very successful...except that in terms of personality and morals, Ed turned out absolutely nothing like him. Excitable, eager to please, anxious, lonely, slightly flamboyantly gay and full of all sorts of emotional and mental and existential issues, Ed does his very best to be his own person and be more than a figurehead puppet, using his resources and power for good. Was ‘born’ in the US but has a British accent from being ‘tweaked’ to better match the original Edmund. Lacks context for a lot of things and imprints on people who are nice to him like a baby duck.

Dustin Smalls

Somehow fell into the position of being Edmund’s personal assistant, a position of unexpected power and influence. Mostly runs around keeping Ed out of trouble and educating him on things, and protecting him from people taking advantage of or outright abusing him. To his surprise, wound up becoming super best friends with Ed, which evolved into a complicated but deep queerplatonic relationship. Tired Trans, actually has albinism to a small degree but he doesn’t have cliche red eyes so it surprises people. Cranky, loves shitty memes and video games, hates ‘You’re killing me Smalls’ jokes and will tell you exactly why The Sandlot is problematic shit. His other best friend is Pam, his wife who he’s in an open relationship with.

Pamela Flores

Wife and other best friend of Dustin. They’re nesting partners; it’s a very well-functioning open marriage agreed to by both parties, she has a girlfriend who’s her primary romantic interest, and Dustin dabbled around now and again before meeting Edmund. Also trans; the two actually met at a fertility clinic where they’d both gone to freeze some of their DNA. Sweet, supportive, can be deadly serious and firm when the need arises.

[chaniters]

ELDRITCH

New short, Fallen Hero : Rebirth. Sidestep meets Anathema for the first time. New made up villain too. Also, Sidestep gains a problem with addiction in the end.

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ELDRITCH

You take your a spot right next to the fountain. You like it here, and lots of people walk trough the park, specially on sunny days.

You set down your easel and extend your chair. Some of your previous sketches you set on display on the floor.

The easel was a good dumpster find, and you've been making a good living trough it.

You open your sketchbook and start drawing. You'r not the best artist, they just trained you to draw faces. And that's what you do most of the time.

But you'r also making a sketch of the park between sketches. You'r learning to draw buildings. Inanimate objects are harder to you, since they don't have a mind to tell you how they should look.

People are different. You can read their thoughts, see their features and draw them in the way they'd like to be seen. They'r so happy about it and your metal mug is usually filled with tips.

You wished you had thought of this before... begging on the streets made you feel like a parasite. At least people is happy with your sketches, and you'r happy to make them.

Today is a good day and you even manage to sell several of them. A guy comes to describe you some people he knows, and you take the images from his brain and draw them... He tells you that you must be very talented. Makes you blush, even if it's undeserved.

You stop a few times, for lunch and some snacks, but for the most part, the day is spent filling your sketchbook with faces and images.

By late dawn you'r done. You begin to pack your things. Time to get back to your place.

You put everything in your backpack, and get your hood and googles back on. You'll pick a different place tomorrow.. maybe by the beach.

"Fuck Olivia, I can't believe you did this."

You stop by, hearing the distant yelling even before you notice the minds.

"I did it for us baby! It's what you wanted!  Now It doesn’t matter that you lost your  job! We won't need to work anymore.. We can just take everything we need. You just need to take yours too!" she seems to be offering him a flask

"I was fucking joking! I told you that! And I never told you to take that shit! And i'm not going to take it either! Fuck.. we need to find you a hospital soon"

His mind is outraged and shocked... but Olivia's mind.. is something else. You sense an intense struggle... she's just simply being overcome by some form of hormone and chemical imbalance the likes you've never seen.

"I'm NOT JOKING! This is SERIOUS! I'll show you!" She extends a hand and to him... and it suddenly starts... changing.. before your eyes

"See? Look! I CAN DO THIS!" Her "Hand" now more loosely resembles a claw. A black exoskeleton is covering it before your eyes. And it's spreading trough her arm...

"WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT THING?" he yells stepping back

"Jason! Stop! Don't run away!"

"Stay here Olivia.. I'll.. I'll go seek help!" he screams in panic.

"No.. No! NO you'r leaving me! I knew you where leaving me! EVERYONE... Is... always LEAVING!" she extends her claw... and it's now much longer than a normal arm. She takes hold of Jason's arm in an instant, pulling him closer.

"GAAgH!" You hear him scream, now in pain. There is a soft crack.. she's probably broken his arm with that claw. Some onlookers are taking pictures with their phones in the distance, but no one's doing anything. She closes the flask to his mouth as he tries to look away. Hero drugs obviously.

Fuck. You take your easel with both hands and sneak behind her

"AARGH! LEt me... Go!" Jason screams.

She's distracted... you lift your easel and take it down her face with all your strength.

"AWWW!" She yells turning on to you, her eyes changing color before you as he speaks "WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?" She realizes she’s dropped her flask “NOOOOO! I NEEDED THAT! WE NEEDED THAT!”

The exoskeleton begins to spread to her cheeks and the base of her skull..

Unlikely you can really hit her again after she’s totally covered.... her other arm is begining to look more and more like an insect's sting.. sharp and deadly. She gives you an enraged look...

FUCK... why do you keep getting involved...?

You don't answer. You just hit her in the chest this time, maybe you can... there!

She's out of air, and she lets go of Jason, who falls to the floor in pain.

"GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!" You yell at him

He manages to get up and take a few steps back.

"YOU WON'T DO THAT AGAIN YOU LITTLE BITCH!" Her claw takes hold of the easel and pulls with brutal strength... she actually tears some of the wood to pieces. Then she raises her needle and sends a powerful trust your way.

You see it coming, and dodge it, the needle tearing a hole in the pavement.

That's just great. You hate your life.

She pulls it again and charges at you. You duck as she swings her claw, then jump to her right to avoid the needle. Using the impulse, you get a get a hold of her leg, pulling it up... only she doesn't fall. Her shoe comes off in your hand, and you see claws beginning to form on her (Feet?)

Her other leg seems to provide more than enough balance, and she counterswings. You get hit by the claw and flung on your back.

You roll backwards, standing up. Her mind is a mess... you can predict her movements but not her intentions.. or her continuous mutations. A horn is now beginning to form on her forehead. She charges at you.

Once more, you dodge, and she impales a wall behind you with the now fully formed horn. Only took seconds and it's solid enough already.

Your hand goes to your backpack.. but it's an old habit. You don't have a gun these days ...tough honestly you'r not sure a gun would help against this kind of boost.

Hesitation doesn't sit well with Olivia. She frees herself from the wall and ... something lashes at you. Tentacles.. coming out of her shoulders. Trying to grab you...

You evade, but she is faster and faster.. until  one of them trips you... she raises her needle arm to stab you down. You close your eyes.

The stab doesn't come.. instead you hear a monstrous shriek of pain from her.

"Mind if I help?" You open your eyes, incredulous.

A hero... to your rescue.

He's holding the needle arm with one hand. The needle itslef is disintegrating, as if his touch was burning it.

Olivia shrieks and lets go, pulling her needle back in pain.

"Here let me help you up" He says extending a hand. You take it... and stand up.

"Are you new ? Outfit could use some work" the chubby figure chuckles.

"Watch out!" you yell. Too late... Olivia's claw, which seems to have doubled in size smashes him sideways, sending him flying into a lamp post.

"fuck... fuck..... Fuck!" You evade another killer blow. You've got to think about something fast.

Olivia.. Or the creature that was Olivia begins sending attacks with an ever changing body as you fall backwards.

You realize you'r not going to win this fight with strength. If you win it in the first place.  

“Never attack when your enemy defends, always behave in ways they can't expect... never show your true power until the end.” You mutter as you dodge, duck, and cover. Despite yourself you can't help remembering your trainers.

You circle the creature, evading attacks from it's (Limbs?) as It grows increasingly frustrated.

"Stoooop... Sidesteeping!" It screams in what seems five different voices. You'r not even trying to look too much at it now beyond dodging.. it keeps mutating before your eyes in truly disturbing ways.. reminds you of the bodies... the inhuman ones..

You realize you've got only one chance at this...

A single mistake by the thing... it's all you need. You jump, spiraling in the air, your left palm stretched... and it makes contact with the thing's Head.

It immediately makes a grab for you with it's arms (claws... tentacles.. stings..) and IT catches you... but that's no longer important. If this doesn’t work you’ll die either way. You'r not confident enough in your telepathy... that's why you needed direct contact.

A storm breaks trough your shields, enveloping you... blowing you away... You focus, reforming your own barrier, and digging into her's.

For a few seconds there is only chaos, and you can only feel the strength of her arms crushing your chest... but then you find her, and you'r no longer in your body, nor she in hers.

There she is... at the very bottom of the pit, surrounded by monsters of every imaginable form and shape, circling around in a hurricane of lighting, confusion and hatred. You dive in, as hard as you can... reach your hand for hers... Your fingers touch.

You feel your minds meld.

Calm. The storm dies out. The monsters go silent before your gaze. There is only silence. She looks at you.

"Help me" She says. You've got hold of her mind now... but something's not right.

"I'm trying! Hold on to me!" your mind tells her. You are trying to put a lid on top of the enraged emotions... You only need a moment..

"HELP ME!" She screams... the scream echoes and the air around you turns into broken glass.. the sound increasing exponentially. The Storm rages once more The monsters wake up again, striking at you. But the door is almost closed... almost.. You struggle with all your strength to seal them away and... and then you'r kicked out of her mind.. In force.

Pain. Darkness... familiar darkness. Back in your own body. You hate doing that, but you had no choice. You open your eyes.

The hero who saved you... He's looking down on you with concern.

"Are you ok?" he asks.

You try to contain the nausea.. and then ask her in return

"I don't know... are you?"

He smiles. "I'm Anathema. I'm Invulnerable! But that thing's strength is something else. It left me out of commission for a few seconds... whatever did you do to it ?"

You look back, trying to stand up while panicking

"Where is it?"

"Oh it escaped. You gave it a good scare tough... When you hit it with that palm attack... and it just broke away in pieces". She points at a mass of limbs and tentacles lying on the floor next to you "It just started cracking... parts falling off like they had dried away. And then this naked lady got out from within... seemed totally out of herself.. and she just ran away"

"Olivia" You say.

"What?" Another voice... You realize the two of you are not alone. You turn...

"Hey kid" You blink. It's Charge. Fantastic. This crapola again.

"Oh This is Charge! I got here first... i was the closest ranger."  Anathema explains.

"Yeah, i Know him..." You admit

"He's the brick kid"  

"WHAT, for REAL ?" Anathema helps you up "HAhaha! You'r a legend!"

"I'm not..." you look down. "I just wanted Mr. Molotov to get what he had coming.. uhm.. where is my... "

You walk down to where your easel is lying down, broken in several pieces. Your backpack is ripped as well. Your sketches are smudged with goo, and the sketchbook itself has a huge hole gooey going trough them all  made by the thing's needle arm.

You take a deep breath. And just sit down on the floor seeing if you can salvage anything.

"Oh no... " Anathema approaches you. "Was that yours?"

"Yeah." you say letting go. Useless. It's all just useless now. Only a few pencils survived. And your unfinished sketch of the park is crumpled and thorn.

You feel like crying again.

"Hey. These are very nice" he says putting two pieces together... a sketch of an old lady. She gave you 5 dollars.

"Not bad" Charge adds.

"I'm learning" you say. That's true... you'r trying to learn to do more than just raw sketches.

"Why don't you come with us?" Charge says "We can get you some new supplies"

"I don't need charity!" You state a little louder, pretending to be enraged. TRuth is you'r scared of being seen with them and have people identify you later.

"Hey it's not charity" Anathema says looking at you with a smile. "It's the least we can do. You dealt with Eldritch Olivia in one hit."

There is something warm and fuzzy about his mind that you can't quite describe. But you know this is a mistake... You should hide again ... go back to your place... stay away from the authorities such as them.

"Here, have one of these" he says passing you a wrapped piece of ... something.

"What's this?" You ask

"Chocolate bar" he shrugs

You open the envelope and take a bite.

"Whatever you did.. .it was incredible. .. how did you do it? Do you have a name already? Is that some sort of touch of death?"

Your tongue answers in direct contradiction to all logic.

"I'm ... Sidestep. And that's what I do.. martial arts.. pressure points... I knew i could weaken her if I hit her when her chi was out of balance" You answer. It sounds real-ish, right ?

"Pressure points? Martial arts?  Oh.. you'r one of those" Charge studies you.

"What's wrong with pressure points?!" You ask indignant

"Nothing, nothing!" Anathema Interjects

"Say... Sidestep." Charge pronounces your chosen name "If we can get you some new art supplies, can you make us a sketch of this Olivia? We still need to find her"

"It... depends" you speak in a serious tone.

"Hmm... ? On what?"

"How many more of these can you get for me?" You hold the empty envelope of your chocolate bar. "In the next 15 minutes?"

_____________________________

My Fanfics: https://chaniters.tumblr.com/post/181692759294/my-fanfiction-for-fallen-hero

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fan fiction using characters and the setting of the Fallen Hero: Rebirth and upcoming Fallen Hero: Retribution games written by Malin Riden. I do not claim ownership of any characters from the Fallen Hero wold. These stories are a work of my imagination, and I do not ascribe them to the official story canon. These works are intended for entertainment outside the official storyline owned by the author. I am not profiting financially from the creation of these stories, and thank the author for her wonderful game/s, without which these works would not exist.

[bluerighthand]

Baby Steps

Prequel to GUAS (though you don't have to read that first if you don't want to).

Summary: It’s 1893. Tommy is turning three, Arthur Snr's disappearance has left the family reeling, and Polly navigates life as a teenager. 

Notes: It was my birthday on Thursday, so I wanted to write a little fluffy thing about mini Tommy's birthday, which sort of ran away with me and turned into a prequel to GUAS - so angst has crept in (sorry!)

Words: 3,304

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16135868

Warnings: poverty, brief mentions of death, Arthur Snr being shitty from a distance

Tommy Shelby was an adorably frustrating baby. There was simply no other way of putting it. With the exception of his father, who already showed a strong preference for his older brother, Tommy’s big blue eyes and chubby cheeks melted even the hardest of hearts. He fully exploited this of course, which is where the frustration came in. He had the ability to get into trouble in every conceivable way possible.

From the moment he could crawl, he was near impossible to keep track of. Arthur Jnr, though enthusiastically rising to his role of top Tommy locator, often got distracted, and a frantic Jane would find them happily playing together behind a crate or in the stables hours after they’d wandered off.

She wasn’t a bad mother, far from it, everyone in Small Heath knew how much she loved her boys. But working two jobs to provide for the household, and sorting laundry, meals and upkeep left her with little time to spare. It had been easier since Polly had come to live with them, but the boys were fond of exploring, and an extra pair of eyes did little to deter them. Her husband, if she could even still call him that, hadn’t been home for over a year. She’d woken last spring to a hastily scrawled note on the bedsheets, and a few stolen coins in her wallet.

Big business opportunity in Ireland, he’d said. Didn’t want to wake you. Be back before Thomas turns two.

Jane took out the note sometimes, from where it was carefully tucked inside the book in her bedside drawer. She did so now, on the eve of Tommy’s third birthday. Arthur hadn’t come back. There had been no letters, no telephone calls. She’d tried to track him down in Ireland, through hotel bookings and their family friends in Galway, but to no avail. Most people refused to give out such information over the phone, and she couldn’t leave the boys. Even if she could, it would be like looking for a needle in a haystack. Lying awake in the dead of night, she sometimes wondered if he was dead, if she should move on and forget him. But how could she forget the way he used to kiss her?

The wistfulness soon passed, and she finally did what she should have done months ago, scrunching the note up with a cry of frustration and throwing it across the room. It bounced off the wall, falling into the thin layer of dust around the foot of her dresser. She hung her head, fingers clenching painfully in her hair as she squeezed.

“Jane?” said a small voice, and she composed herself, lifting her head to see her sister-in-law in the doorway. Polly was still wearing her school clothes, the crumpled pinafore hanging loose on her body and her laddered tights looking particularly worse for wear in the fading light. She was looking more like Arthur every day. Jane held out a hand, but Polly crossed the room and picked up her brother’s note.

“Pol” she started, but she had already unfolded it, a deep frown appearing on her forehead as she read. She clung to the paper for a moment, before letting it drop to the floor, joining Jane on the bed. They didn’t speak for a while, each lost in their own memories.

“Is he ever coming back?” asked Polly bitterly. Jane wrapped an arm around her shoulders, marvelling at how tall she was getting since turning 13.

“I don’t know” she said honestly. It was hard to make promises in Small Heath. The situation was ever changing, usually from bad to worse, and she didn’t want to get Polly’s hopes up. For all her resentment, Arthur was still her older brother.

“I hate him” said Polly, and Jane shook her head, immediately cursing her instinct for still jumping to defend someone who’d left his children with nothing, and his sister to grieve their mother alone. She swallowed her protest, instead jumping up and crossing the room. Considering the circumstances, she thought Polly had adjusted to life in Watery Lane pretty well after a few months, though it was clear she missed her mother terribly. Helping around the house, and taking care of the kids was both an enormous help to Jane and a distraction for her. Although they liked to wind her up, both Arthur and Tommy adored their aunt, and Jane smiled to see them all piled on the sofa together in the evenings. Loving them enough for two parents wasn’t hard.

“What do you think?” asked Jane, taking out a knitted horse from her bag and handing it to Polly. She grinned, stroking over the brown string mane and button eyes.

“He’s going to love it” said Polly.

“Took bloody ages” said Jane, laughing. “Couldn’t get the stitches right at first”.

“Where’d you get the wool?”. “Charlie knows a girl at the dying factory” said Jane with a wry smile. The horse wasn’t perfect, she knew. There were a few loose threads, and the shape was more like a sausage with smaller sausages for legs than the toys she’d seen in the shop windows, but she was confident Tommy would love it all the same. The dog she’d made for Arthur years before still accompanied him to bed each night, and her heart warmed to think of her boys snuggled up together with the toys she’d made them.

“Right” she said, with a glance at the clock. “It’s ten o’clock you, get to bed”. Polly nodded reluctantly, pulling out her clips and letting her hair fall around her face as she walked down the hallway. Jane readied herself for bed, before kissing Polly goodnight and opening the boys’ door an inch to peek inside. They were both breathing deeply, fast asleep. The curtains were slightly open, a chink of lamplight from the street beyond casting long shadows on the patterned wallpaper.

Jane tiptoed in, picking up Arthur’s dog from where it had fallen to the ground and nestling it in beside him once again. Turning to Tommy’s cot, she pulled the blanket up over his shoulders, taking a moment to look at her son as a two-year-old for the last time.

On his last birthday, Tommy was just beginning to understand the concept. The finer details were lost to him, but he knew when Arthur had birthdays he got toys that Tommy wasn’t allowed to play with, and what Tommy wasn’t allowed, he actively sought after. This usually resulted in a tug of war, and tears when a winner emerged. Charlie had chuckled when he witnessed this, recounting a fight he’d had with Jane over a spinning top that ended in a nosebleed, several smashed plates and two very angry parents.

Even so, Jane wanted no fighting today. She was exhausted, lying awake in the small hours thinking today of all days would be the one Arthur would call. She gave up on sleeping, trudging downstairs at around six to prepare breakfast. The telephone remained silent, as she knew deep down it would, but it dominated the room nonetheless, drawing her eyes and trapping her in a cycle of pacing and staring.

An hour later, breakfast was made, and Tommy’s horse and a few other packages from relatives were arranged carefully around his plate. Jane headed upstairs, changing out of her nightclothes and waking Polly.

Polly didn’t appreciate the fact it was a school day, but forced herself out of bed nonetheless. She hadn’t enjoyed school since she’d moved to Small Heath. On top of losing her mother and her home, the thought of her friends together at her old school moving on without her made her feel sick. They’d surely forget her if she didn’t write regularly, but there was little money for ink and paper, and even less for stamps. She’d managed to swipe a few from the post office and send a letter to Katherine, but she’d had nothing in reply.

Maybe there’d been a mix up with the post, and the letter had never reached her. Or maybe she was too busy for old friends. Polly had telephoned of course, but she’d stopped ringing her friends a month ago, when Ruby’s mother had told her they were all away together, visiting Maggie’s grandmother in the country. They’d never rang her first anyway, it was always her to dial the numbers. She still knew them off by heart.

She hadn’t spoken to Jane about it, didn’t want to bother her with such things when she was already struggling. She was under the impression Polly had made friends, and settled in at this school. She wasn’t lying exactly, just giving her guardian one less thing to worry about. All the girls in her class thought she was scary, and strange. She’d heard them whispering about her in the courtyard. She had no luck with befriending the boys either, as they were only interested in girls who would hang off their arms and dote upon their every word.

Having Arthur there helped a bit, although he was more interested in playing soldiers than hanging out with his aunt at break time. It was one year and two months until she could leave. She’d decided she wanted to be an accountant, and was researching courses, despite her brother’s disapproval of women in the workplace. Who cared what he thought anyway, she reminded herself firmly. He hadn’t even seen her since she was eleven, and it seemed that men were the cause of most problems in the world anyway.

She groaned as she put on her tights, and the biggest ladder ripped even further. To hell with it, she thought, pulling them on anyway. Not like she had to impress anyone.

Jane opened the boys’ door and pulled the curtains, pale morning light rushing into the room. Tommy was just starting to wake when she entered, rubbing his eyes and rolling over onto his back.

“Good morning my birthday boy!” she cooed, reaching down and scooping Tommy out of his cot. He was almost too big for it now, and she’d have to get Charlie to build him a proper bed soon. The bars had been ineffective for months anyway. Jane still hadn’t been able to catch him in the act, so God knows how he managed it, but she often found him out of bed, toddling around the house at night time, or playing on the floor innocently the next morning. Tommy yawned, wrapping his arms around her neck as she pressed kisses onto his hair.

The thought that she couldn’t give him the day she wanted to resurfaced, and guilt settled in her stomach. Even with two jobs, there were three kids to look after and endless bills to pay, meaning funds were always stretched thin. Charlie helped out, bringing money and toys for the kids whenever he could, but she just wanted to give them more. She couldn’t bake him a cake, for instance. She’d saved some extra food stamps for fresh eggs and lard, but they couldn’t afford to use any more on just one day, no matter how special it was.

Tommy jolted Jane out of her thoughts by grabbing at her earring, giggling as she pinched his cheek. Perching on the edge of Arthur’s bed, she woke him with a gentle shake to the shoulder. Sitting up and stretching, Arthur beamed at his brother.

“Happy birthday Tommy!” he yelled, Jane shushing him quickly in case their neighbours were still sleeping. Arthur used a quieter voice, and she placed Tommy on the bed. He crawled over to Arthur, climbing into his lap.

“How old are you today Tom?” Jane asked. Tommy thought about this, before laughing and holding up all ten fingers.

“No” groaned Arthur, trying to lower seven with little success. “Mama, Tommy thinks he’s ten”.

“I think he’s just joking darling” said Jane, reaching over to tickle Tommy, who squealed.

“I’m really three!” he said, once Jane had relented, like he’d let them in on a big secret. Arthur nodded, satisfied, and wrapped him in a hug.

Half an hour later, Polly’s jaw dropped as she stared at the full breakfast table. Usually they were lucky to get a slice of bread in the morning, and she relied on school lunches to get her through the day.

“Been saving” said Jane. “Managed to get a fresh loaf, and there’s eggs, lard and milk too”.

Polly sighed happily, buttering a slice of bread and tucking in. Arthur was also on a mission to eat as much as physically possible, but Jane didn’t scold him as he wolfed down his eggs noisily. Tommy, though usually perfectly content to nibble on a bread crust, also appreciated his birthday breakfast. He’d spotted the horse the second he was through the door, and it had remained hugged close to his chest for the remainder of the meal. Uncle Charlie had wrapped up some coloured blocks for him, and his grandfather had sent some clothes, which Jane was extremely grateful for.

Breakfast took longer than usual, with the extra food and the presents, so Polly and Arthur were in a rush to get ready for school. Jane was reluctant to leave the house should the telephone finally ring, but common sense won out, and she pulled on a pair of thin gloves. The bleak grey of winter was finally abating, though there was still a crisp chill in the air. Shrugging on Jane’s old shoes and coat, Polly buttoned Arthur’s blazer and ushered him outside.

Jane stepped out behind them, pulling the door closed with a slam and handing Tommy to Polly. This was their usual routine. Polly held Tommy, and she carried Arthur, to save him from the ground that cut into his soft bare feet. She thought of the day Arthur would be too big to be held, and pressed a kiss to his hair protectively.

He’d taken their father’s disappearance badly, sitting for hours by the phone, and grabbing letters straight from the postman’s hands in his eagerness for news, crumpling in disappointment when there was nothing.

She set him down at the gates, and he started to run into the yard, but turned back after a moment to reach up and ruffle Tommy’s hair as he’d seen Charlie do in farewell. Polly handed her nephew to Jane, saying goodbye before following Arthur into school, mentally counting the hours until she could leave. Tommy waved goodbye, eyes roaming curiously around the school yard. He’d be there himself in under two years, Jane couldn’t believe it.

She returned to the house with Tommy, humming to him under her breath as he took in the world, horse clutched in his little hands.

Luckily, today was a cleaning day rather than an office day, and so she was able to take Tommy to work with her rather than leave him in Charlie’s yard, or in the strict care of Mrs Hanson’s nursery school down the lane. Gathering her supplies, they left quickly for the first house, to nip their lateness in the bud before it delayed them further.

Tommy was usually a terror when she was cleaning. Jane’s back was often turned, giving him free reign to wander off, grab anything within reach, eat things that shouldn’t be eaten or pet the family dog a little too enthusiastically. She sometimes spent more time dealing with him than actually cleaning. Thank God Arthur was now in school.

Today however, Tommy was happy waving his horse around, making it jump from surface to surface and perform mid-air somersaults. The second house had a long hallway, which Tommy loved to run down, tiring him out for the next few locations and prompting him to curl up on a cushion whilst Jane worked rather than cause trouble. He was roused by a biscuit from the last house, and perked up further once Jane was carrying him home.

He wanted to walk, and she let him once their route reached smooth slabs of pavement rather than gravel or dirt tracks. They neared Watery Lane, and Tommy held his mother’s hand as they passed by hissing machines and factory workers.

“What we doing later Mama?” he asked.

“Well” Jane said, drawing out the ‘l’ sound for dramatic effect, “we’re going to go to the pasture”. Tommy shrieked in excitement, jumping up and down and brandishing his knitted toy at Jane. They’d have to think of a name for it she thought, as she ruffled his hair fondly. How he could still get so excited for somewhere they went at least once a week warmed her heart. Arthur and Polly had returned home whilst they were out, and were lounging on the sofa as they arrived.

“Going to horses!” Tommy announced, running over to Arthur, who was equally enthusiastic.

“I can gallop the fastest” he said to Tommy, demonstrating by running around the room in imitation. Tommy gave him a deadpan stare, which always made Polly crack up. How could someone so young have such a look inside them? They were both galloping now, picking their feet up like they watched the horses do in the fields. Of course, Arthur had the advantage, and was soon lapping Tommy, who burst into tears and began to sulk after he tripped over his brother’s schoolbag. Where he’d learnt the word sabotage, Polly wasn’t sure.

Jane returned with two cups of tea to the chaotic scene, but didn’t have it in her to be angry with either of them today, simply wiping Tommy’s tears and distracting him with their upcoming trip. Though he kept up his protests most of the way, Tommy quietened as they neared the stables, and Jane had to stifle a laugh as Arthur attempted to lift him up to see the horses by way of apology. She took over, lifting Tommy up and smiling proudly as he stroked a horse’s mane.

“Which one do you want to go on Tommy?” asked Polly, already leading her favourite filly, Wilma, out of the stables. Tommy began to enthusiastically list every horse present, and then some who weren’t.

“One Tommy, one” laughed Jane. They’d have to work on his counting. Eventually, Tommy settled on a bay horse called Ossian, named after the most financially successful racehorse of England in 1883. Of course Arthur Snr had been the one to name him. Driven by money, that man.

This Ossian however, was not destined for a racing life, and was happy to be brushed and provided with enough hay to happily munch the days away.

Jane saddled him up, and climbed on, Polly handing Tommy up to her. Arthur, under careful supervision, was now allowed to ride a smaller horse on his own. Jane was still slightly wary about it, but he was nearly seven, and usually on best behaviour at the stables.

The afternoon was spent cantering around the fields, breeze cool and the sky a bright blue away from the smog of the inner city. Wildflowers bloomed within the long grass, and Polly had a small yellow buttercup in her hair.

They stopped for a drink a while later, and Polly persuaded Jane to wear a pale pink flower through her buttonhole. Arthur ended up with a daisy, and Tommy a forget-me-not.

It was so peaceful out here, and in the evening sun the laughter of her children and sister-in-law reminded Jane that this was all she needed. They may not have riches, but a mansion and a car could never bring her this happiness. They were all fed and clothed, Tommy had a present he loved and a family who adored him. Arthur may not be there to watch his sister and sons grow up, but she was, and that was enough.

[k0saji]

Caffeine Challenge #25

I went a little over time and the ending is a bit abrupt but hey, its done! @caffeinewitchcraft

This is for the Caffeine Challenge # 25 using the prompt “When Man Discovered Magic, The World Stood Still With Wonder”

 “When Man Discovered Magic, The World Stood Still With Wonder.”

Life blinks up at Magic, who busy giggling over a history tome.

“I remember that much differently,” she says, walking over to the kitchen island. Magic is wearing a male form today, with rich brown hair slicked to the side and narrow blue eyes. It doesn’t take away from the feeling of power and otherness emanating from him, even among their own kind.

“I think Death had a conniption,” Magic says, reading down the page. “Oh look, remember that time they made me a god?”

Life taps her finger on the island, thinking back. “No,” she decides, “I think I was busy in the bottom of the ocean.” Life reaches past Magic to the bowl of fruit at the table. She grabs an apple, rubbing her thumb against waxy skin before turning to the sink to wash it.

“What’s at the bottom of the ocean?”

“Me.” Life laughs as Magic groans and swats at her.

“That’s a lame joke, your lame,” Magic says, knocking his head down on the book. Life just smiles and pulls up a seat across from him, biting into the apple with a smug crunch. Magic keeps his head down for moment or two before lifting it and pointing a finger at her. “I refuse to acknowledge you as my teacher if you keep making puns.”

“I haven’t been your mentor in a long time,” Life points out. “Not since you decided that filling a desert with wildflowers in front of a human city was a good idea.”

Magic whines and covers his head, blushing at the reminder. “I was young and stupid, you can’t hold that against me.”

“Did I hear someone call Magic stupid?” Magic groans again as a woman with dark skin and honey blond hair appears in the kitchen.

“Knock first, Love,” Life chides, ignoring her pout as she hugs her daughter.

“Sorry,” Love says before dropping into an empty stool, stealing Magic’s book from under them. “Ohh, I remember this! Didn’t you also try and –“

“Oh my God, stop!” Magic wails, hands reaching for the book as Love leans back in her seat, keeping the book away from Magic.

Life just takes another bite of her apple, letting noise wash over her as she thinks back to that unfortunate day.

-

(Millenia ago, Egypt)

“Life, Life you need to help me.”

Life blinks up at Magic, the young Aspect looking at her with wide brown eyes. She sets aside her basket, and barely steps out of the river when Magic grabs a hold of her and teleports them to outside the city. The sun beats down on her, and the sand quickly soaks up the water dripping down her legs, but those are the only familiar things she can see.

In front of her was a fantastical sight, flowers, the kind that are not native to the region, fill the desert as far as the eye can see. She kneels down to touch one, and its alive, petals fresh and soft as if it was growing in the glades in regions farther north. The sun should have shriveled them up, the ground drain them of the precious water in their leaves but they remain defiant, releasing a sweet scent that carries in the hot breeze.

“Magic, these are beautiful,” Life breathes out, a smile breaking over her face. Oh its not natural at all, but the magic sustaining the life will fade in time, taking the flowers with it. She isn’t concerned about any repercussions to her domain.

Life looks up at Magic, who’s fidgeting, hands clenching and releasing the braid his long black hair is bound in. She’s reminded of just how young he is, reflected in the awkward adolescent form he wears, long limbs and chubby cheeks that hide what would end up a sharp jawline.

“Yeah, that’s not the problem,” Magic mutters, walking through the flowers. He leads her to the other end of the meadow, getting there faster than if they were both human to see a group of youths gathered around in a tight circle.

Magic grimaces as power pulses out from the circle, and Life can feel the drain from the land as the meadow starts growing, grass pushing up between flowers, and seedlings sprouting from nothing taking root.

The children are all young, just on the cusp of adulthood, barely a few years older than Magic appears and every one of them were human.

“Magic…”

“I only showed one of them how to make flowers! I didn’t mean for this!” Magic whispers thrusting his hand out at the growing meadow. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this, I don’t even know how they managed to do this!”

“They managed because you showed them,” Life cuts him off, not wanting to catch the attention of the group just yet. “Just like I show them how to harvest, or Justice brings forth order, once you show them something it’s theirs. You can’t take it back.”

Magic rocks on his heels. “But they’re doing it wrong!” bursts out of him, and Life tries to get him to quiet down as the humans start noticing them. “There’s no balance, no price paid! They need to stop or-“ Magic cuts himself off as darkness falls, sending a cold wind sweeping through the meadow.

Life smiles as Magic grows pale and the humans scream as the shadows come together in front of them, writhing until it turns into a tall figure with a jackal growling by its side.

“Death!” Life calls out, “Hello, Anubis,” she says to the jackal, who huffs but keeps his attention on the humans, growling when one of them tries to run.

“What did you do?” Death, garbed in a dark robe is a spot of black in the bright meadow, drawing all light in and letting none escape. Life is smiling widely, which earns her a suspicious look from Death.

“Oh my God, I fucked up, I fucked up,” Magic chants under his breath, inching behind her. Life raises her eyebrows and Magic shuffles out from behind her.

“The Balance is being shifted, what do you have to say for yourself?” Death looms over them, wearing the form of a man this time, tall with dark skin that highlights the golden glow from his eyes.

Life sighs appreciatively as a patch of brown forms under his feet and grows with every whimper as Magic tries to explain himself. The debt demanded by magic slowly being paid, the Balance being righted, soothing the growing itch between her shoulder blades that has been growing since Magic came to her.

“Death, it’s been so long! Have you seen my letters?” Life asks. Death ignores her, but she tries again. “Do you want to see the death chambers? These people have such a strange way to honor their fallen,” she continues cheerfully, ignoring Magic’s pleading eyes.

They got themselves into this mess, they can take the punishment.

“I take offense to that,” Anubis calls out, and Life heart soars when she spots a smile, barely a quirk of full lips but still there on Death’s face.

“-and have you seen how big the crocodiles have gotten? I think you’ll like them, they are so very elegant when they swim,” Life steps closer, still a respectful distance away from Death, but closer than he’s allowed her near before.

Death pauses, looking intrigued for a second before turning back to Magic, who gulps. “I’ll think about it,” Death says, and Life bites her tongue before she can scream with joy. It must register on her face because Death looks away from her and tempers it with “It will only be for a short while, I will be busy trying to untangle just what he did.” Death turns a dark glare to Magic, shivering in place.

Life never really understands why people are so afraid of Death, honestly Magic, he’s not going to eat you.

“Magic.”

“Yes Mr. Death Sir! Ma’am? Your Eminence?” Life stifles a giggle as Death glares first at her and then at the alarmingly pale Magic.

“Deal with your students, the next time this happens I will hold you fully responsible,” Death says, bearing his weight down on Magic to make the threat stick before turning to Life.

“You mentioned crocodiles?”

Behind him Magic slumps to his knees while Anubis corrals the humans over to him. Life just smiles and holds out her hand, smiling brighter when Death takes hold.

“Only for a little while,” Death warns her again and Life just squeezes his hand in hers.

“Whatever you give me is perfect.”

-

(Modern times, Life’s House)

Life blinks out of her reverie as Magic and Love get into another argument at her dinner table, and sighs. She better stop them now before they destroy her kitchen again.

“Children-!”

[datingadviceonreddit]

Ok, it’s been a long time coming now.What do I begin with? I [M] turned 20 recently and the fact that I’m so inexperienced with women is really getting on my nerves now. I’ve never had a girlfriend, never dated, never kissed anybody and obviously, I’ve never had sex. It’s not that I haven’t had the chance, but bear with me.The reason for this is the following:I’ve always been slightly on the socially awkward side, with low self-esteem, I’m definitely a home bird, I don’t go to parties and clubs as I don’t drink, don’t smoke and can’t see the purpose of these activities, really. All of my friends do, however. I am terrible when it comes to communicating with girls I’m attracted to. I can’t read signs, I don’t know what to say, how to act and get the cold sweat. When it comes to girls that I’m not attracted to, I have no problems whatsoever but it’s a rather useless skill in the context of my problem.It has nothing to do with my looks, at least in my opinion. I would never rate myself below 7/10, blonde, blue eyes, 192 cm tall, decent clothing, etc. I’ve been a bit chubby for most of my life, although last year I lost 15 kilos and I’m quite happy with the results now. Also once I accidentally overheard female friends discussing how attractive I was, which is good I guess, although for some reason it still doesn’t help with my self-esteem.The best part is that at least 3 girls have been interested in me in some way in the last year and a half. As I said, I am terrible at reading signs but these were obvious enough. The first one I met at the driving school, but she was not my type so it went nowhere. The second one was a girl from the class next door, I knew about her feelings for quite some time, but she was quite a big drama queen, easily manipulated by everyone, extremely emotional and quite honestly, wasn’t the best looking out there. So, when she finally told me in person how much she liked me and how she wanted us to be more than just friends, I politely declined her and in my opinion I took the right decision. It wasn’t fair for her to take advantage of her feelings just for sex a few kisses and leave her after a month or two. It turned out that she doesn’t take “no” for an answer, now she is 2000 kilometers away and I know from trusted sources that she is still thinking about me, although she hasn’t seen me for more than a year. Massive respect for her bravery to confess, though. The third one is the most recent one (this winter/spring) and probably my biggest failure. I didn’t expect a ton of girls at university as it is architecture-oriented, but there she was and she blew my mind with how pretty and smart she was. She was in my group so we helped each other a lot – I helped her with the drawings and the plans, she helped me with the calculus homework. We were both quite early usually, so it was common for us to wait together for classes to start, just the two of us. There were also insane amounts of eye contact. And the imbecile that I am didn’t man up and didn’t make a single move. Fast forward 2 months and she is with another boy. It hurts a bit when I see them together but I am happy for her that she found somebody more worthy, and I guess I have to move on now.When it comes to family and friends, I don’t have many friends, and they were quite supportive for some time, they tried to arrange a couple of dates for me with their female friends but I found this too awkward so I refused each and every time. Now they have sort of given up on me when it comes to this and consider me a hopeless case. My parents are great people, I am still living with them because my home is only a couple of blocks away from university. Unfortunately, for some reason they think my constantly single status is quite funny and occasionally drop some hurtful comments in front of other relatives. Also, one of my cousins, who is 150 cm tall, a bit dumb, unhygienic and nobody believed he will ever get a girlfriend, actually got one and now I am the only object of shaming, so to speak.I am a simple man, I dream of having a wife that I genuinely love, one day to have children and so on and so on but I have the annoying feeling that I am missing my only chances. It seems that there won’t be any girls worth considering in the foreseeable future. I am highly against dating sites, they are nothing more than human markets. I am too awkward to talk to random girls on the streets, I can’t grow the balls to do it, unfortunately. I don’t consider myself too picky, I’ve been interested in less attractive girls but they had outstanding personalities. Also, I am fully aware that I am not perfect, actually nobody is and I am constantly working on myself. In the first month in university I put the mask of the confident, outgoing person but boy was it exhausting. I couldn’t keep up with the stress that it caused so little by little I was back to being the old me, 100% natural and being myself. Furthermore, I doubt I convinced anybody with this fake personality. Sometimes I get so frustrated with my state that I go out and run for miles and miles and thus trashing myself physically, just to come home and listen to sad songs. I feel alone and isolated (at least romantically). I have so much love to give and at the same time I need some love to receive.Sorry for the long post. It was extremely difficult writing this. I don’t know what I am doing wrong in my life anymore and I don’t know what I should focus on form now on. Some of you will say that I have nothing to worry about, others will say I am already late but any advice will be deeply appreciated. Thanks for reading this.TL;DR: The title. via /r/dating_advice

[shark-from-the-park]

FIC:  Come on and sit on my hot-seat of love  (Part 1 of 2)

Because I got an ask in my inbox wanting chubby!Aziraphale fluff (from @littlemissanglerfish), but I can’t write fluff without a bit of smut. So instead I wrote an overlong, cracky, smutty fic about post-apocalypse Crowley struggling to get to grips with all the human sexuality that has rubbed off on him over the years, whilst also being inconveniently in love with the angel and no longer really having anything to take his mind off it.  And Aziraphale being his chubby, sexy, delicious self.  And ice cream. 

NSFW, and smutty, so don’t read if you want to avoid that sort of thing.

Also: Not safe for Crowley’s dignity.

It was the hottest British August on record, and even for a part-time serpent, post-not-apocalyptic London was meltingly unbearable.

Dressed in his thinnest pair of black jeans and a dark grey cotton shirt with nary an accent scarf in sight, his immaculate quiff only deigning not to wilt due to a minor demonic miracle, Crowley sauntered into Aziraphale’s shop.  He was about to make his presence known when he stopped in his tracks.

The angel was stood atop a wooden ladder adjacent to the uppermost shelf of one of his bookcases. He had a slim volume open in his hands and was apparently fully engrossed in reading it, in spite of his precarious perch.

Amused, Crowley decided not to announce himself. He didn’t want to give the angel a fright (well, alright, he sort of did, but he definitely didn’t want the angel falling down the ladder).

Only Aziraphale could forget himself and become engrossed in a book while standing at the top of a ladder in his own bookshop.

Even the angel had made some concessions to the heat, Crowley saw, he wasn’t wearing his usual jacket, and his shirt sleeves were rolled up to the elbow.

Crowley stared up at him from his unusual vantage point and couldn’t help but wonder to himself if Aziraphale’s backside had always been quite that big.

I mean, sure, he had known it was on the larger side. Aziraphale’s corporation had always been rather plump and padded, and Crowley’s eyes were often drawn to his slight paunch.

But perhaps because of him always seeing Aziraphale wearing a jacket which covered his posterior, or perhaps something to do with the angle he was at right now, Crowley had never realised quite how snugly the flesh filled the worn seat of Aziraphale’s trousers before. (Or, if he had realised it before, it was long enough ago for it to be news again.)

It was awfully distracting to realise it now, for reasons Crowley chose not to examine.

He had quite forgotten to miracle the door lock closed behind him, and a would be customer attempted to dart into the shop only to knock Crowley sprawling with the door. He reached out a hand to steady himself only to knock over Aziraphale’s blasted old-fashioned umbrella stand with a loud clatter.

Aziraphale, still on his perch, jumped, and Crowley wished he hadn’t been looking at him right at that moment because he saw as if in slow motion the jiggle of his fleshy buttocks in their fabric prison.

Mortified by his clumsy entrance, Crowley coughed and made the bag strap of the would-be customer snap, spilling the contents of her life all over the pavement and into the gutter outside, before miracling the book shop door firmly locked and the umbrella stand upright again.

Despite his best efforts, Crowley’s face was roughly the colour of cabernet sauvingnon by this point.

He cleared his throat loudly.

“I didn’t hear you come in, my dear.”  Aziraphale greeted him absently, as though having a demon fall sprawling into his shop was an everyday occurrence.  He re-shelved his book and began to climb down the ladder steps.

With each downward motion Aziraphale made, Crowley noticed helplessly how the fabric seat of his trousers pulled taut across each chunky buttock in turn.

He tore his gaze away and cleared his throat again.

“Hullo, angel.” He managed, sounding a little breathless despite him not actually needing to breathe.

Aziraphale smiled curiously at him once he reached the ground.

“It’s early.” He commented.  "Is something the matter?“

Crowley had entirely forgotten, in the space of approximately 6 minutes, what reason (excuse) he’d had in mind for visiting the angel that day.

“It's…  It’s a bit… warm…” Crowley explained, at length, cursing himself for being inarticulate.

Aziraphale just smiled beautifically again, insufferable being that he was.

“Yes, the hottest and driest British August on record I believe.  I’ve been wondering if we have our young… Friend to thank for that.”

This had not occurred to Crowley, although it probably should have.

“What, Adam’s decided to melt everyone in the South East, has he?”

“Well my dear, he has been known to control the weather systems around Tadfield. Perhaps since the… Er… Since the… Not… The… incident, he may have been setting his gaze slightly further afield.  I suppose that what seems a balmy summer temperature only becomes unbearable in the middle of the city.  Adam’s never visited a city, as far as I’m aware. ”

This was a decent bit of reasoning on Aziraphale’s part, Crowley privately thought.

“Would you like to…” He began, and his heart, which was mostly for show, began beating, somewhat inconveniently, in the region of his throat. “Was wondering if you wanted to get some ice cream… There’s a new dessert place opened up a few blocks away…”

Crowley would never have deigned to await anything with baited breath, so the pause in his unnecessary breath now must have been a coincidence.

Needless, of course. Aziraphale’s face lit up immediately.  There was none of the ‘Really my dear. It’s just gone 11 in the morning…’ token protesting Crowley might once have expected, either.

“Oh.  Well. That sounds pleasant. Let me just get my jacket…”

“Angel.  It’s 34 degrees in the shade.  You don’t need your jacket.”

Aziraphale, whom Crowley knew still found being out in public without a jacket somewhat scandalous, seemed to weigh this up.

“Well… Do you think it would be proper?”

“For… For Ssss…. G- SSake, angel.  Look at me, would you? I came in here only wearing one layer and I haven’t spontaneously combusted. Try waking up to the 21st century.  We still have a lot of it to live through.”

“Do you really think that just a waistcoat and shirt will be appropriate, my dear?” Aziraphale gestured to himself slightly, and Crowley wished he wouldn’t.  He noticed that the Angel had already forgone a bowtie and that his first few shirt buttons were undone, which was unheard of in and of itself.

“Honestly angel, just the shirt would be the most appropriate for the weather, but keep the waistcoat if it makes you feel better.”  It looks good on you, he didn’t add.

“Well, it will feel strange going out in public so underdressed.  But I suppose circumstances must…”

Crowley kept his head angled downwards, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jeans, as he waited for the angel to potter about doing his closing up the shop routine, as though he were running a real business.

They walked the few blocks to the dessert place.  They had been doing more of that – walking places - since the not-apocalypse and having all this tantalising free time suddenly spring up in front of them.  The prospect of the future still seemed so new and fragile that too much scrutiny might make the bubble burst.  They seemed to have reached a wordless agreement that keeping occupied and not talking about any of it was the best way to proceed.

Crowley had forgotten the name of the new ice cream parlour, so when Aziraphale delightedly exclaimed “Angel’s Delight?! How perfectly absurd…”, he almost choked on his tongue.

“Thought you might like that.”  He shrugged non-committally after clearing his unnecessary airway, looking at the pavement so as to not look at either Aziraphale or the sign above the ice cream shop.  

They went inside, and found the place heaving with Londoners, desperate to escape the heat in a pleasant manner.  

Crowley subtly cleared a path through the crowd so that the angel could walk up to the counter and gaze in astonishment at the multitude of ice cream flavours on offer.  

He lounged against the wall near the entrance, knowing that Aziraphale would want to look at every single flavour and consider it’s merits before making up his mind.  

Two young people sat at the tiny table next to Crowley were nudging at each other.  

“That should be illegal…”  One young man with fantastic hair was saying to his companion.

“It’s too hot to be ogling anything right now…  But you’re not wrong.” Said his friend, who was wearing a sleeveless t-shirt and a beanie hat at the same time, a look Crowley would not have attempted in even his most ostentatious dreams.  

“Do you think he knows what that arse is capable off?”

“Not a chance.”

A feeling of utter dread wrapped around the deepest parts of Crowley’s charred and blackened soul.  Against his better judgement, he followed the eyeline of the two young men.

Aziraphale was leaning forwards, talking excitedly to a girl behind the counter, gesturing around at the place in delight, utterly resplendent in that way he was when he made the effort to be charming.

In fairness to the two young men who’s eternal punishments Crowley was currently plotting with some glee, Aziraphale’s backside really was the star of the show.  Although his thighs, those extra pudgy bits at the very top just before the crease where his buttocks began were pretty mesmerising as well.  Something about the light colour of the trousers and the unapologetic snugness of them and the way they were worn so thin with age over the seat, just combined to make him draw the eye, and the stupid bastard had absolutely no idea how unfairly tempting he was being right now.  

At that moment Aziraphale laughed at something the girl had said to him and rocked back slightly on his heels as he did so, changing his posture.  The well-fitted waistcoat emphasised the narrowest part of his lower back before the swell of flesh padding his hips and legs and buttocks began.

Crowley’s toes curled painfully inside his exquisite snakeskin boots.  

One of the doomed young men next to Crowley let out a wistful sigh.

“Do you think I could pull off a waistcoat?”  Pondered the other.  

“I’d like to pull off his waistcoat…”  Joked the first, not noticing that the lanky man with the dark glasses stood next to their table was violently tearing a cardboard menu into a thousand pieces that scattered over the fashionable polished concrete floor.  “And no, of course you couldn’t, you’re far too skinny.”

Crowley threw the last bits of menu over the floor in something of a panic.  He hadn’t really intended to be making an effort at this precise moment, but over the millennia he had found that genitalia, like so many things about humanity, had, for want of a better phrase, rubbed off on him.  Genitalia was, at this point, more of a conscious opt-out than an opt-in situation for him.  Right now he could no more have opted out of his male parts than he could have swigged a thermos of holy water.  Worse, he couldn’t remember ever making an effort quite so enthusiastically.  

Get the angel, get the ice cream, and get out before anyone notices that you’re tenting your jeans, some internal self-preservation message was telling him on a loop.

Aziraphale was, of course, still talking to the shop girl, who was smiling at him as if he was the most adorable cat video she had ever seen, in spite of the queue of somewhat irate customers that was building up behind him.  

“What would be better…” Said the young man with the beanie, “Bending him over and smacking that arse as you gave it to him.  Or clawing at that arse as he gave it you…”

“Clawing. Definitely clawing -”  The one with the hair suddenly noticed the long dark shadow looming over his table.

“He’sss mine.” Whatever terrifying and achingly cool thing that Crowley had been intending to say to these two young dickbags, it hadn’t been that. He tried again.  “I mean… you should watch what you say about -”

“Wait, the guy with the arse is your fella?”  The beanie looked impressed.  “Nice one, mate.”

Crowley drew himself up to his full height and placed his palms threateningly on their table.  “You two jerk-offs should probably think twice about being so unforgivably rude about other people’s… boyfriends…” Ok, so that last part wasn’t strictly true (yet, said the most optimistic part of Crowley quietly), but 6000 plus years of companionship gave you some rights and responsibilities, surely, and besides, sometime soon Crowley was intending to get up the nerve to try putting his arm around the angel, he was, really.

Fantastic hair, instead of trembling in his hipster boots, was giving Crowley a curious look up and down.  

“Mate,” he whispered in astonishment, “Do you have a massive stiffy right now?”

…TBC…